


Pre-Fandom

by Skyplayer



Category: Homestuck, Psycholonials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28891689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyplayer/pseuds/Skyplayer
Summary: This text exists in a fleeting microsecond of time, from a fragile angle observable by select few. While we may now experience this story as it is meant to be experienced, its lifespan is miniscule. About two weeks, give or take, before the unstoppable creation of context and the irreversible gain of knowledge leaves this work a decaying husk of something greater.Or, Z just has a non-canon breakdown. Depends on when you read this.
Kudos: 17





	Pre-Fandom

Pre-Fandom.

This text exists in a fleeting microsecond of time, from a fragile angle observable by select few. While we may now experience this story as it is meant to be experienced, its lifespan is miniscule. About two weeks, give or take, before the unstoppable creation of context and the irreversible gain of knowledge leaves this work a decaying husk of something greater.

It's at the roots of the soft auburn sunset, beneath the approaching moon and the layers of smog, that our jouney into the Etherdom begins. A lofty home sits nestled into the nook of a lush emerald mountain. Beside the sparkling azure pool, lounging in the waning sunlight, lies a woman who is surely pretentious enough to be describing things with this kind of asinine buffoonery. Sipping her fucking beer with her pinky out like some kind of goddamn aristocrat. Who the fuck calls plants "emerald"?? When you read some of her poetry posts you want to gag yourself with a spoon and hope that the memories of reading her words are ejected out along with this afternoon's macaroni and cheese. 

You keep your opinions to yourself though, you can't afford to make an enemy of PurpleProse94. Or "Abby" as you've now wrangled your way into being on a first-name basis. Abby has been an active writer since the pre-AO3 days, building a following with rare-pair lemons before moving onto her more self-indulgent poetry. Maybe the username was ironic at first. Dumb usernames you come up with when you're twelve years old end up having to stick, no matter how dumb they may be, to keep the Brand going. You would know, yours is "Juggalink". You may have gotten your name from an mspaint edit of a screenshot of Link from Ocarina of Time made to look like a juggalo, but let's not dare open that can of worms. Your name is far, far removed from its original namesake, now its just a Brand of a 24 year old girl who makes video essays to an audience of around 3,000 followers. Abby has around ten times that.

You laugh at another of her lame jokes. This has been most of the night. The jokes have actually gotten funnier the longer the night went on, but that might have some correlation with your increasing amount of weed intake. She says she gets all her best ideas when she's high and "inhaling the frigid breeze of an April evening that whispers to us our destiny", but it's also April 20th. She may be insufferable but free weed with a successful influencer? What's to complain about?

The journey here, for one thing. This thought appears to you out of nowhere, and you feel a twang of uneasiness before shoving it back down inside you. Get the fuck outta here you stupid ass frigid breezes. You're really here. You're talking to PurpleProse94. You did it. You win! It's everything you ever dreamed of, you're in the big leagues now and its the high-life from now on. Maybe you pissed off a few people on the way... maybe a whole lot of people. Maybe every friend you ever had now hates you for siding with their enemies based solely on the cool kids having more clout than your normie friends. Maybe you should stop thinking and have another edible.

Oh and there's a horse here too. Just kinda standing there on the other side of the pool. He's just chillin.

=====

<>L<>

<> it isnt too late you know <>

<>L<>

=====

You wake up the next day at 3pm. You don't remember walking home but sure enough you're greeted by the dingy ceiling of your apartment, seasoned by the smell of dirty clothes and day-old macaroni. You stumble out of bed, taking a few steps towards your computer before promptly falling to your knees and hurling into the pot of macaroni. 

There's a horse standing in your room. He's watching your social strands fray and snap. He's just chillin.

You crawl back into bed.  
=====  
<>L<>

<> you are faced with an opportunity <>

You are drifting through the space of infinite possiblity. 

<> a chance that only one in untold trillions of people across the galaxy ever get to have <>

You can make out a face. A vast being, grey-skinned, eyes a solid blinding white. 

<> you could live not in a fragile, infintesimal human body <>

You think he looks... familiar.

<> but in the realm of dreams, of the ephemeral yet eternal <>

Wait is that...

<> you could trade what pitiful clout youve earned online <>

No fucking way.

<> for the clout of vast interstellar populations who would worship you <>

This has to be some weird weed dream, nothing to see here but nonsense.

<> for countless generations across unfathomable expanses of space and time <>

Wake up Z. Come on don't be THIS weird.

<> all of this could still be yours <>

<> and its all just sitting there <>

<> waiting for you to take it <>

Yeah thats Andrew Hussie.

<>L<>  
=====

ABBY: Wow you look like fucking shit 

Z: thanks 

ABBY: Everything okay?? 

Z: i puked in a pot of macaroni and fell asleep for a few hours 

Z: now its dark. really productive day all around 

ABBY: That was some strong stuff huh? 

Z: yeah but can you even like, have a weed hangover. is that a thing? 

ABBY: I don't know girl, I just know it makes me feel good. 

Z: hey have you heard from andrew lately? 

ABBY: Nah, he's off the grid again. Working on some crazy project. Why? Don't be weird. 

Z: i promise im not being weird!!! i just... had a dream thats all 

ABBY: Did Karkat pick you up and carry you over his shoulder with his massive bara arms? 

Z: no! karkat is a TWINK! and actually it was andrew this time. he was a big space clown that wants me to gain clout. 

ABBY: That's being weird. 

Z: im sorry!!! 

ABBY: LMAO Its fine, just weird to hear dreams about people I know in real life who are normal real people. 

Z: sorry, i made it weird. 

Z: im still in post-macaroni dizzyness 

ABBY: Isn't Post-Macaroni that singer you like? 

Z: LMAO

You continue this text messaging at a snail's pace, triple checking every message you send to make sure you're not going to fuck everything up. Its hard being two degrees of seperation from your idols, its hard and no one understands. You smile at your own dumb reference. Could he really by working on something that's not Homestuck?

You think back on the dream. That vast space was unlike anything you've experienced, even on the dankest weed. It was... like some kind of multiversal continuum of all existence. Cool shit. You vaguely remember a horse? He was just chillin. And then at the end. The strange man floating in space. The ephemeral muse himself. Could he really be back?

You have faith in Hussie, you really do. Perhaps a bit of it is waning after he botched yet another game release, after Homestuck 2 continues to bleed writers, and after the continued complex drama of it all. You're full on gambler's falacy in this one though, you can't sacrifice your entire friendgroup on the belief of one man and give up when he shows his first signs of descension. 

You step outside for some fresh air. As you exit your apartment, you can't shake the feeling that everything is about to change. 

A helicopter flies overhead. The moon is obscured and the dark street becomes even darker. A horse stands under a lone streetlamp, white illuminated eyes glowing like a cat. He's just chi--Your phone vibrates rapidly.

Twitter notifications? Yep and... holy SHIT thats a lot. Purpy really did it!!! She tweeted out a pic of you two hanging out!!! And tagged you in it!!! This is it. This is really really it.

What.. what do you do now??? God uh uhhhh you gotta make sure your profile is in order, you gotta make sure you haven't posted anything embarassing, god forbid you get canceled now and and and oh my god its too much. Your follower count has already doubled. Fandom acquaintances are messaging you, some congratulatory and some already asking for inside information. Even your old friends are showing up in your feed, posting in disbelief that you actually did the thing and again begging for information on Hussie's new project. You don't know a damn thing!! You just smoked some weed with someone vaguely connected to him!!! Oh god this kinda interaction is irreversible isn't it? Fuck how fast will this word spread through the island? Are you going to get doxxed?? Somewhere right now someone is writing some detailed thread on 4chan or Kiwifarms about you, you just know it. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You get in your car and glance around nervously. The night is as quiet as always, full of mundane houses of mundane families that could not begin to comprehend the weight that has just been placed upon your shoulders. Do you need to vomit again? Should you go get the macaroni pot??? No thats dumb why would you think that FOCUS Z FOCUS.

Just drive. Driving keeps you calm. Shove your phone under the seat, just anything to stop looking at it.

You drive along the winding mountain roads of the island. If you were someone like PurpleProse you would compare it to the meandering paths of thought you find yourself traversing. But you're not Purple. You're Z. You... can't really do much. There's no art or writing or programming or anything flowing from your mind. You know how to Post. Posting and social anxiety, thats about all you got. What do you do now that you've gotten this far without any real talent? You aren't worthy of hanging out with these guys. You don't have an-- OH FUCK WHAT THERES A HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET JUST LIKE FUCKING CHILLING THERE WHY WHAT WH--

You swerve off the road, crashing into a cliffside circus tent.

=====  
<>L<>  
=====

Also there's a guy with some guns doing Revolver Ocelot shit I don't even know man its the fucking red dead loading screen over there how high does this guy even have to BE????

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Mortem  
> \----
> 
> We now exist in a timeline that I could have never anticipated. Psycholonials has released and this story was neither made irrelevant nor non-canonical. It was right on the nose. Oops?


End file.
